Monkeys With Coconut
by NewsiesSpot88
Summary: It was never a competition, that's all.
1. Chapter 1

**If you watch 'Boy Meets World' and you saw the episode where Cory and Eric are fighting for their father's attention, the title of this story makes sense to you. If not, look it up. Anywho, this is based off a real story.**

It's never been easy, I suppose, always being second best, always standing – or sulking, really – in his shadow, always pushed aside as less important when compared to him. He was the angel, the number one child. I was – well, not the devil – but the opposite. They thought he was smarter, just because he was the one they could afford to send to school. In their eyes, he was smarter, older, nicer, funnier, probably better looking, too. I was nothing to them, no matter what I did.

I'm not as resentful as I sound, really. It's not like he deliberately tried to sabotage my existence or anything. As different as we might have seemed, we were as close as brothers could be growing up, at least when we were left alone. When we had to put up with appearances, he was thrust into the spotlight, and I was shunted to the side. He always claimed he didn't like the attention, but he never shied away from it, either. Don't get me wrong, I loved him. How could I not, he was my brother?

Like I said, it hasn't been easy. But growing up with it, you get used to it, you know? It was just my way of life. I never knew anything else, never though about anything else, never cared for anything else.

Until now.

It seemed almost unfair. He was born first, naturally, he gets the better treatment. Sometimes, the thought occurs to me that even if I was born first, they would still prefer him over me. But I never thought…

It was never a competition, that's all.


	2. Chapter 2

It started, I suppose, on a normal day. It was a drizzly Tuesday. Drizzly Tuesdays are normal, I suppose, but they suck when you're a newsie. Which is, I suppose, why I was sulking extra moodily over my breakfast. And, I suppose, it made it worse when he pranced into the room in his custom made Italian suit, ready for a covered carriage ride to school. I stabbed my eggs (undercooked, as usual) angrily.

"Morning!" he said brightly to me.

I jerked my head in response.

My mother swooped down upon him, planted a kiss on each of his clean shaven cheeks, and laid out his breakfast of eggs, bacon, toast, and oatmeal in front of him. He rolled his eyes at me and shot me a glance that said _Sorry about this, it's terrible, isn't it?_ I smiled into my eggs, because these were the precious moments where I appreciated being the one less cared for, and by less cared for I mean less treated like a four year old.

"Oh, Adam, before I forget," my mother chirped up from the sink. "Miss Taylor will be coming in today, I'm not sure at what time though, so don't dilly dally at school." She hesitated before turning to me. "And Parker… try to look presentable, will you?"

Of course. I chewed my eggs thoughtfully. "Who's Miss Taylor?"

My mother gave me a look that said Are-you-crazy-do-you-even-live-in-this-house, or something along those lines. "Adam's fiancée, of course," she tittered, disappearing from the room.

I choked on my eggs. Adam thumped me on the back.

"Your… what?" I sputtered.

He purposefully didn't meet my eyes, fixated on his bacon. "Fiancée."

"You're getting _married_?"

"Well, yea, that's what the term fiancée usually implies…"

"Why didn't you tell me?" I demanded.

He stirred his oatmeal. "It never came up."

"Well of course not, why would it? Oh good afternoon Parker, my only and favorite brother, how are you, did I mention I'm _engaged_?"

"Look, I wanted to tell you…"  
"Oh, yea, right. When did you even start dating this Taylor girl?"

Adam's ears turned red. "Well, that's the thing, isn't it? I haven't actually ever met her…"

I choked again on my eggs. He thumped me on the back.

"_What_?"

"Well, Mom and Dad set the whole thing up. Betrothal, you know. She's going to live here for about a year, maybe less, before… you know. You understand, don't you?"

"Gee, of course," I said sarcastically. "What's not to understand?"

Before he could defend himself, I pushed my chair back, stood up, grabbed my hat, and left the room.

"Parker –" he called after me. I slammed the front door shut behind me.

It was still a drizzly Tuesday, chill and gray. I jammed my hat on with a sigh and, hands in my pockets, set out on the trek to the distribution center.

I maneuvered quickly through the crowd of newsies already there, neatly sidestepping Jack who was chasing or being chased by the Delancey brothers. Racetrack greeted my by the gate.

"Heya, Sparky," he said with a grin.

"Hey, Race," I said, not returning the grin.

He opened his mouth to say something, but before he could, Jack ran through us, the Delanceys hot on his his heels. Oscar shoved Race out of the way, Morris practically bowled me over.

When the dust cleared, I was lying on my back on the wet cobblestone. Perfect. Just perfect.

Race squatted down next to me. "Well, Parker, I was gonna ask you why you looked so down…" He helped me to my feet.

"Oh, hahaha," I said moodily.

"That's gonna be one hell of a shiner," Race commented.

I gingerly felt where Morris' elbow had made contact with my eye and winced. Perfect. Just perfect.

"And on the one day I gotta look presentable…"

"Whaddaya gotta look presentable for?"

I sighed. "My brother's getting married."

"_Today_? Jesus, he's fast."

I laughed hollowly. "Nah, his _fiancée_ is coming into town today. They've never met, you see."

I could practically see the gears in Race's mind trying to process that. He thought for a while before coming out with an intelligent "Huh?"

I laughed again. "My thoughts exactly."

Jack returned from his escapade right as the gates opened. Ah, what a showoff.

I got my usual fifty papes. Jack was always pressing me to take more, seeing as I was always the first done, but I wasn't doing this to live like most of the other guys, so I figured why bother? Besides, there was nothing interesting going on in the world.

Race and I split once we left the gates again; he went left, I veered right. There was a fruit market down this street by Grand Central Station that was usually pretty mobbed. My thing was to ask individuals if they cared for a paper, not just belt out the titles like a sports commentator. This way, I got to use my considerate amount of charm my parents never seemed to notice.

I turned away from one sale to find myself staring into the most amazing pair of deep blue eyes I'd ever seen. They were a dark, soft, indigo and sparkled with mischief and pride. When I pried myself away from those, it was with a jolt that I realized the rest of her face was beautiful, too. She had long, gently curling black hair and smooth, shining skin. For a moment I was too stunned to say anything.

I shook myself out of my reverie and smiled, turning on my newsie-charm.

"Well, how do you do there, miss?" I said politely. "Would you care to purchase one of these excellently printed newspapers?"

Honestly, I have no idea what made me say that.

"Well, that depends," she said in a strong, clear voice that was almost singsong in a way. "Is anything interesting going on in the world?"

Well, that was kind of weird. "Not really," I said with a smile. Wow, Parker, nice salesman skills.

She laughed, a sound just as magical and musical as her voice. "Well, in that case, I think I'll take one."

Wait… what?

She must've sensed my confusion, because she elaborated. "Headline news is usually bad these days, isn't it? Assassinations and earthquakes and wars. So if there's nothing terribly exciting happening, it usually means everything is all right, right?"

Well, I suppose that did make sense. Score one-up for Parker the salesman.

She paid for her paper, which I handed over happily.

"I'm Grace, by the way," she said, extending her hand.

"Parker Evans, at your service." I took her hand and bowed.

She laughed again. "Parker Evans." She paused, as if thinking, slightly bemused, but smiled again quickly. "Well, Parker Evans, I must be going, but it was a pleasure meeting you." She looked like she meant it, too. "Maybe I'll see you again soon."

I smiled. "I'm here everyday."

She gave me a small wave as she walked away. I pinched myself hard. Ow. Okay, she was real. Wow. Real beautiful was more like it. I think that was why I was in such a good mood when I slid into the booth at Tibby's for lunch.

Race looked at me. "Why the sudden change of heart?"

"Because I just met the most beautiful girl in the whole world."

Skittery wolf-whistled appreciatively. "Nice. Name?"

"Grace."

"Scale of one to ten?"

"Fifteen."

"Wow."

"Yep."

"And?"

"I gotta say, I think she liked me."

"Nice."

I leaned back. As drizzly as Tuesday had started, it seemed the sun was finally peeking through.

**This will now act as a story-long disclaimer: As much as I really, really, REALLY wish it wasn't true, the only characters I own are the Evans family and Grace.**


	3. Chapter 3

As soon as I got home, my mother swooped down upon me. I could tell at once by the look on her face that I wasn't 'presentable' by even the loosest definition of the word, with my clothes still damp and dirty and what I was sure was one hell of a shiner on my face. She pursed her lips.

"Parker, dear…"

Right, well, nothing doing now, I suppose.

My father walked by, hesitated, and stepped back to look at me. "Did you get in a fight, boy?"

Boy. Not _Parker_. Not even _son._ Boy.

"Sort of."

"How many of them were there?"

"Just one…"

He shook his head. By this he was saying _Just one? You let one person beat you? What kind of man are you?_ Like I was some kind of sissy for getting elbowed in the face. Of course.

"At least you wash your face, dear," my mother said. In an undertone, she added, "Miss Taylor is down the hall, so go upstairs."

I attempted to wash my face around my eye, but didn't really manage it, so I gave up trying. I changed into some wrinkly albeit clean clothes and trudged downstairs.

I leaned against the open door of the dining room where my mother was setting the table again and again. She threw a haughty look at me that basically said, "Well, what are you waiting for? Come over here and help me." And if I did, I'd do it wrong, and she would snap at me like an incompetent fool and then redo it in the exact same way as before. Like always.

I shrugged.

My father brushed past me impatiently, smelling overpoweringly of the cigar he had snuck outside to smoke.

All that was missing from this picturesque classic American family picture was the happy couple.

Speaking of the happy couple…

I heard my brother talking loudly in the hall behind me. He talked loud when he felt he was losing attention. It made me smile that even his bride-to-be found him a bore after just one day.

I don't suppose I was nervous about meeting this Miss Taylor. In fact, I don't suppose I felt anything at all. I had one fleeting hope that she would be ugly.

That hope was dashed when I saw her.

My mouth dropped open.

My brother, upon seeing me in the doorway, chose this moment to speak again in a futile attempt to regain control. "Oh, and this is my brother," he said loudly. He gestured with his free hand to the woman holding gracefully to his other arm. "Parker, this is Miss Grace Taylor."


	4. Chapter 4

It figured, I suppose. I really should have seen this coming. As it was, I just stood there, dumbfounded, my mouth hanging open like an idiot.  
Adam brushed past me into the dining room, pulling Grace along with him. As she passed, she murmured, "Close your mouth, you'll catch flies."

She caught me off guard. I laughed, but quickly stopped. This was way too awkward.

"Well, Miss Grace Taylor, it's nice to meet you," I said quietly.

She flashed me a small, nervous smile.

I sat across from her at the table so I could have an excuse to look at her. Which I did. Frequently. I think I glanced at her every ten seconds. If it was possible, she looked even more beautiful by candlelight than she did in daylight. Hundreds of times more beautiful.

Perfect. Just perfect. The one time I meet a beautiful girl, he beats me out again. Even before he met her, he stole her away. I suppose I should be used to it by now.

I sighed into my dinner, stirring it around lazily with my fork. I looked up again and, with a start, found Grace looking back at me with her deep blue eyes. Her beautiful, mesmerizing, striking, iridescent, intense, deep indigo blue eyes.

I snapped my eyes down to my plate, feeling the heat rising in my cheeks. In my peripheral vision, I saw her, too, bending her head over, hiding her quiet laughter behind her dark hair. Her long, layered, gently curling, smooth, shining, dark hair. I shook my head to clear it.

Damn, why was she so beautiful? As if this wasn't hard enough to begin with. I sighed again.

Later that night – much later, after everyone had gone to bed – I was walking down the hall to get a glass of water, when who should I bump into in the darkness, but the beautiful Miss Grace Taylor herself?

"Oh! Sorry, Parker," she whispered.

"No, it's okay."

Wow, this was awkward/

"So, uh…" she said, "Hi."

I laughed. "Hi."

"This is awkward, huh?"

"You bet." I paused. "So, you were…"

"Sleepwalking," she clarified. "I do that a lot."

"That's gotta get annoying for Adam." I tried to keep the resent down. I really did.

She bit her lip. "I suppose."

There was a slight noise down the hall as the door to my parents bedroom opened, and my mother bustled out.

"Oh!" she said with surprise on seeing us there. As if she hadn't been listening to the voices in the hallway through the keyhole, straining to hear what was being said."

"So, uh, yea." I cleared my throat. "Downstairs, down the hall, second door to the left."

Grace caught on quickly, bless her. "Yes, thank you, Parker," she said quickly, disappearing down to the bathroom.

My mother shot me a warning glance. I slunk back into my room like a shamed puppy.


	5. Chapter 5

The next morning, as soon as I woke up, I bolted out of the house without even bothering to eat breakfast. Most of the boys from the lodging house were doing gymnastics in the street when I got there. Racetrack and Kid Blink were among those not acting like idiots.

"Heya, Sparky," Race greeted.

"Why so glum?" Blink chimed in. "Switch places with Skittery?"

"I'm _not_ glum," Skittery shot at Blink, coming over after several cartwheels. "What about that girl yesterday, Parker?"

I sighed. "Don't even get me started on her."

"Aw, what's wrong, Sparky?" Race teased. "Gotta case of the _blues_?" He blew a puff of cigar smoke in my face.

I coughed, waving the smoke away. "Gee, Race, it's a shock you ain't got a girlfriend."

"Aw, man, that hurts. That hurts deep." Race pouted. "Right heah." He drew an X on his chest.

"Yea, yea," I said moodily. "I went home, and found out Grace is Adam's _fiancée_."

There was silence except for newsie cart wheeling feet on the wet cobblestone.

"Ouch," Skittery said flatly.

Race patted my elbow (he's too short to reach my shoulder). "That's harsh, Sparky."

I sighed. "Yea…"

I wandered down to the market with my fifty papes. When I was about halfway done, it wasn't even noon, and I was still in a mood.

And when I turned around, there was Grace. Again.

"Hi?" I said.

She smiled shyly. "Well, you said you'd be here everyday, didn't you?"

I nodded. "That I did. But why are you here?"

"Well, this is really the only part of New York I know so far."

It was my turn to smile. "Well, that's about to change, isn't it?"

"What do you mean?"

I leaned down for a minute to a younger newsie, handed him my papes, and told him to scram. Straightening back up, I offered my arm. "Tours of New York City, right now only, by your very own Parker Evans."

Grace laughed. "All right, Parker Evans."

Even the way she said my name sent a shiver down my spine. I took a deep breath and led her out of the market.

We toured through Central Park, Tibby's, the newsies lodging house, Adam's school, and all of the other parts of New York City that I love. Grace loved it too, I thin, judging by the huge smile she wore the whole time.

Except the whole time, even though I was having fun, I was remembering how it wouldn't last, because we would go back to my house and everything would change.

At around two o' clock, we passed by the Brooklyn Bridge. Grace tapped my arm. "Where does that go?"

"Brooklyn."

"Can we go there?"

"Well…"

Grace squeezed my arm. Oh, there's that feeling in my stomach again. "Please?" Aw, man, she looked just like a puppy.

"Well, I guess so…"

So we trekked across the bridge. And who wo we run into on the other side, but Racetrack and the legendary Spot Conlon himself.

" –listen, Race, if you keep this up – "

" –it's not gonna happen again – "

" –you might just find your way to Sheepshead _blocked_ if you know what I mean."

"Really, Spot, you gotta go there?" Then Race saw me. "Heya, Sparky!"

Grace giggled. "What did he call you?"

I ignored that and newsies-style-shook with Race. Grace just watched wide-eyed. (I figured that would be weird for a girl to see, what kind of girl wants to see two guys sharing saliva?) "What kinda trouble you getting yourself into now, Race?"

Spot cut in. "Just a little matter between Racehorse and myself."

Race grumbled something in Italian.

"And who is this?" Spot prompted.

"Oh, right. Grace, this is my friend Racetrack, and this is Spot." Spot coughed. "Spot Conlon, the king of Brooklyn," I continued in a bored voice. "Guys this is my fr- this is Grace."

"Pleasure to meet you, miss," Spot said smoothly, taking her hand and kissing it. I coughed pointedly.

Race shook her hand like a normal person. "Well, Miss Taylor, I've heard lots about you." I coughed again.

So we left after that. But not before Spot had time to make one of his comments. Use your imagination, but only at your own risk.

"Sorry about that," I said under my breath.

Grace shook her head. "No, it was nice. Adam never took me to meet any of his friends."  
"Probably because he doesn't have any." I paused. "Sorry, that was rude."

Grace gave me her amazing smile. "It was still funny."

Oh, man, she's _perfect_.

I sighed.

Later, my mom gave me a lecture because she thought I was too involved in Adam and Grace's relationship, and blah blah blah. I told her she was being a batty old witch, which got me sent to my room. I mean, seriously? I'm seventeen, and here I am being sent to my room. So, instead of taking that, I left, via fire escape, and wandered around New York for a few hours. One of the highlights of my journey was watching Jack act like an idiot in the middle of the street while he thought no on was watching. Of course, I was hiding behind a bush at the time. And that sight in itself lifted my mood considerably, as you can imagine.

When I walked home, I was whistling that dumb song, since it was now stuck in my head.

_Santa Fe…_

I snorted with laughter just thinking about it.


	6. Chapter 6

**Bear with me through these next couple of chapters, the idea came to me in a vision (haha) and I just had to put it in, even though it has about zip to do with the actual plot.**

**These chapters have been guido-ified for Athena.**

**Also, there's some slight language in this one, just a warning.**

I fell asleep on a bench in Central Park and woke up a little after dawn, when the city was just about waking up. After contemplating the trouble I would be in, I dismissed it and headed down to the distribution center.

I was still in my good mood from watching Jack 'dance', and as soon as I saw him that morning it all came back.

"What's with the grin, Sparky?" Race said suspiciously.

"Nothin'. Tell ya what, Tibby's special is _baccalà_ today, right?"

"_Pesce fritt'e_."

"Whatever. Lunch is on me."

Race's jaw dropped. "You're gonna buy me _baccalà_?"

"I'm in such a good mood, I really will."

Jack then fell on his butt in the middle of a cartwheel. I burst out laughing.

So around lunch time, I went to Tibby's. Race wasn't there, so I waited. And waited. And waited. I ate myself, but I still waited.

"Hey, Skits, have you seen Race?" I asked as he slid into the seat across from me.

"No. Why?"

"It's just, he said he would meet me here today."

Skittery shrugged. "Probably just at Sheepshead."

I smiled. "Well, yea, but…" I thought. "What gets me is that I told him lunch was on me today, and…"

Skittery nodded. "And it's not like Race to miss free food… especially when today's special is something that Italian."

I laughed. "Yea…"

There was a pause in the conversation.

"So," Skittery asked hopefully, "you still paying for lunch?"

I threw my hat at him.

By nightfall, Race hadn't returned, and no one had seen him, and I was getting worried.

"You think he's in trouble?" I asked.

Skittery looked alarmed. "What makes you say that?"

"I was in Brooklyn a couple days back and Spot was threatening him about something."

Blink shook his head. "That's not good, Sparky, the last time Race got in trouble with Spot – it was before you came – we found him unconscious in an alley with a broken leg two days later."

"_What_?" Jesus Christ. "We gotta go look for him!"

Blink and Skittery looked nervously at each other.

"I dunno, Sparky…"

"You can't really get involved in stuff like that…"

"What if it was you guys, then, huh?" I demanded. "Would you want your friends to just pretend it wasn't happening?"

They shifted uneasily in their seats.

"Whatever. I'm going."

I got up to leave.

"Wait, Parker…"

Blink got up. "I'm in."

We looked expectantly at Skittery.

He sighed. "My mother warned me against peer pressure," he said dejectedly, following us out.

It was cold and dark, so we made short work of crossing the bridge. When we got to the other side, I stopped. Blink and Skittery stopped behind me.

"Now what?" I asked.

You see the flaw in my plan – I had absolutely no idea where to go or what to do once we got to Brooklyn.

"We could go to the lodge house here," Skittery suggested.

"Yes, we could. Good idea," I said bracingly. "Where is that?"

So Blink led the way, being the only one of us who had ever been there before. And I wasn't going to admit this out loud, but it was in such a sketchy neighborhood I wouldn't have gone there in the daytime.

We made Skittery knock, and after a few moments, Spot answered the door. "Evening, boys. A little late for calling, dontcha think?"

"Where's Race?" I figured there was no beating around the bush. Skittery and Blink looked kind of nervous behind me.

Spot took a bit to answer. "I don't know what you're talking about," he said evenly.

"Bullshit," Blink said. "We know he was here, and we know he's in trouble."

I don' know why, but I shoved Spot into the wall, which is probably the dumbest thing I could do. "What did you do to him?"

The look on Spot's face was the most terrifying thing I've ever seen in my life. "You really wanna do that, Sparky?" he said in a dangerously low voice.

"Where is he?" I said through gritted teeth.

"I can show you where he is."

I loosened my grip.

"Come on."

Spot led us through about fifty backstreets, winding in a maze that I would barely be able to navigate in the day time. He stopped in front of a tall, abandoned building.

"I can tell you that this is where Race probably is."

"_Probably_?"

"This is where the people he messed with live, anyway."

"Who'd he mess with?"

Spot didn't answer, but opened the door into a black hole – really, that's what it looked like inside. I stuck my head in. "There is no way I'm going in there in the middle of the night."

I heard Spot say, "Oh, I think you are," and I turned around to see the point of a dagger _very_ close to my neck.

"Spot, what the hell are you doing?" Blink said sharply.

"In," Spot ordered. "Unless you wanna see your entrails on the ground."

MY hands in the air, I stepped back into the shadows. Blink and Skittery followed me.

"What the hell, Spot?" I demanded.

Spot shrugged. "Shouldn't have meddled."

He pulled the door shut. Skittery threw himself against it. "Locked."

"Does anyone know what just happened?" Blink asked. "Did something important happen in the half I didn't see?"

"No, we're as confused as you," I said. "What –"

Then I was hit over the head, and everything went black. Blacker, I mean, than it already was.

**Ooh, cliffhanger!**


	7. Chapter 7

**Here is where the guido-fication comes in. (And I swear I'm not being racist, 'cause I am one too.)**

"Heya, Sparky," someone said when I woke up.

It was Race. I looked around disoriented. We were in a dark, dusky room. Race looked fine, apart from a bruise on his jaw and what appeared to be a broken wrist, which he was cradling to his chest.

"What the hell, Race? What have you gotten yourself into?"

"Hey, I didn't _ask_ you to come rescue me!"  
"And if we didn't, you'd be dead."

It was just an assumption, I didn't actually think he'd be dead, but the way he got very silent made me change my mind.

A big guy came in, black hair slicked back with gel, a clean shaven face, and a rather large nose.

"Hey," Race started, "_che ha dentro un mondo che ha dentro un mondo_!"

The guy laughed. "Ah, _si, si_," he said in a sarcastic tone.

"I tried, man," Race muttered to me.

"What?"

The guy grabbed me by the back of my collar and punched me in the gut, completely knocking the wind out of me.

"_Smetilla_!" Race yelled.

"_Ci sono armi nei supermercati e mettono i bepe nei vaffanculo_," the guy answered nastily, shoving me back into a wall. He cracked his knuckles menacingly, and then pulled out about a two foot long whip.

A _whip_?

"Race," I said, "is he really going to –"

He cracked it. I ducked. It knocked my hat off.

"Race!"

"_Un paio di ali al vento_!" Race yelled.

This apparently had some affect. The guy turned around so fast the whip flailed out and struck my arm. I yelled in pain.

The guy said something. Race nodded. The guy left.

I slid to the floor, breathing hard and holding my arm. "What did you say?"

Race frowned. "I don't think it translates, exactly. Let's go."

I followed him out. "We're just … leaving?" He nodded. We 'picked up' Blink and Skittery from another room, neither of them the worse for wear. And then we just… left.

"Race, was that who I think it was?"

"If you think it was the Mafia, then yes?"

I swallowed hard. "Oh."

We were all silent for the rest of the way back.

It was about three in the morning, by Race's watch, when we got back to Manhattan. The three of them went to the lodge house, I turned to go home.

I snuck in by way of the fire escape and slipped into the living room window. I turned around to be face to face with Grace, which startled the hell out of me.

"Parker!" She threw her arms around me and _God_, that hurt. I gasped. She backed off. "Where have you been?"

I was at a loss for words. "I've only been gone a couple hours…"

"What are you talking about? You've been missing since the day before yesterday!"

"_What_?" Jesus, I was out cold a lot longer than I thought. "Well, what are you doing up so late?"

"Sleep walking, remember?" She flicked on the light, and then shrieked at the sight of me. She covered her mouth quickly. "What _happened_ to you?"

I brushed past her and turned into the bathroom. I couldn't look that bad, could I? Oh, but apparently I could. I was covered in grime, I had a black eye and a gash on the side of my head, and what felt like a broken rib, not to mention the huge welt on my arm. I felt dizzy all of a sudden.

"Parker!" Grace pushed me down to sit on the edge of the sink. She pulled some kind of ointment cream from the cupboard and smeared it around my eye. She wiped the gash on my head clean and put a bandage on it. She accidentally brushed against my arm, which hurt a _lot._ I took in a sharp breath, which caused her to investigate, where she found the welt. "Were you _whipped_?"

I hesitated, then decided there was no point in lying. "Yes."

Grace shook her head, muttering under her breath. She made me take my shirt off while she wet a cloth and held it against the welt, which _really_ stung at first but then started to numb it.

"Thanks," I said quietly.

She glanced at me. "What the hell were you doing?"

"Race may or may not have gotten in trouble with the Brooklyn Mafia."  
She just stared at me. "You guys are idiots."

I couldn't help but smile.

Race cornered me later that day, his wrist in a splint. "We never speak of this again."  
I nodded. Believe me, I was never going to say another word about it. "Race… what about Spot?"

Race's expression hardened. "I can't tell you that, Sparky."

The seriousness in his tone scared me. I nodded numbly/

"They're not gonna come after you, are they?" By 'you' I meant 'us'.

Race laughed. "Please. If they tried, the Manhattan Mafia would ripe them to shreds." He started to walk away.

"Wait – there's a Manhattan Mafia, too?"

**Hehe, that was fun. Not that I enjoyed torturing Parker… or anything…**

**Also, don't bother trying to translate those sentences… I just wanted it to look like I knew what I was talking about, those are random lyrics to "Safari" by Jovanotti.**


	8. Chapter 8

**(I really like this chapter. There's language in this one too.)**

A few days passed. My injuries faded (although I now have a scar on my arm). I avoided my family, including Grace. And I wasn't exactly pining for her at the time (maybe I was just preoccupied with the whole Mafia thing), so I figured, eh, maybe my attraction to her was just hormones. That was a relief, sort of.

(Now here is the scene where in a movie, they show a series of clips in elapsing time to a cheesy song. Just insert your choice of song (actually, I'm thinking 'Accidentally in Love' by Counting Crows) and put random pictures of Parker and Grace in, with Adam on the sidelines all jealous and left out.)

So, I was beginning to doubt myself, but I pushed my feelings down, because God only knows that sort of love triangle would end well. I mean, Grace was everything – beautiful, clever, witty, and she had the cutest habits, like sneezing whenever the sun caught her unawares, or twirling her hair around her fingers when she was thinking hard. But I pushed those feelings down hard. Right up until the moment they exploded back up, like a bullet out of a gun **(or Augustus Gloop out of a tube of chocolate)**.

It was the most innocent thing that pulled my trigger, really. We were all just chilling in my living room. My father was smoking a pipe, while my mother threw him glances in between her cross stitching. Grace was reading. I was playing solitaire.

Adam came in and sat next to Grace. He took her hand and kissed it. And that was it.

A giant wave of jealousy exploded in me. I left the room as quickly as possible without storming, which I think I did anyway. No one noticed. I grabbed the first jacket off the coat rack - it was Adam's, but who cares - and left the house, walking a few blocks until I found anice bench

I went back home after I knew everyone was asleep. But I was wrong – Adam was up, pacing in the living room. He called me in. "I need to talk to you, Parker." For a moment, I thought maybe he knew, but he looked worried, not angry, so I went in. However, I lost interest almost as soon as he started talking.

I really had no idea what he was prattling on about, but it was really annoying me. I let him go on for about five minutes before I interrupted. "God, Adam, just shut up," I said disgustedly. "I'm really not in the mood to hear you whine."

"Oh, _you're_ not in the mood? And you think _I'm_ in the mood to watch you moping all the time over _my_ fiancée?"

So, he did know.

"Don't think I don't notice," Adam continued, his voice reaching breaking point, "how often you look at her at dinner, and when you watch her walking down the hall, and storming out of the room when I kiss her – yeah, I noticed that – and all the tours you give her – oh, yeah," he said satisfactorily, "I know all about your outings all over the city, to your newsie hideaways, real romantic, Parker, up close and personal with New York's best scum."

I pushed myself out of the chair. "What did you say?"

"You hear me." He narrowed in eyes. "You and your newsie street rat friends, you're scum, you're nothing but scum."  
I had to admit, that caught me off guard. And man, that stung. It took me a moment to retaliate. "You think you're better than me, because some twist of fate granted you the so-called 'right' to be born first and wear fancy suits? Newsflash, Adam, your custom made Italian suits were made by sweatshop kids just like me. You wouldn't be _anywhere_ without us. I bet you can still find the blood from their fingers in the stitching."

Adam stepped closer to me. "At least I can offer Grace something _stable_," he said nastily.

I laughed mirthlessly. "Don't even pretend this is still about Grace for you, man. You don't know anything about her!" I took a deep breath. "What's her favorite color?" Periwinkle. "What does she like to do in the rain?" Read ghost stories. "What makes her sad, happy, angry?" When people are mean, when people are nice, when people are downright dumb. "What's her middle name?" She doesn't have one.

Adam thought for a minute. "Marie."

I laughed again. "Nice try."

A noise came from the hallway, like a choked sob. I turned just in time to see Grace fleeing, and the front door slamming behind her.

Oh, Grace…

Adam snorted. and muttered under his breath, "Fucking dramatic whore."

My body acted for me, although if it had given my brain the time to think, I would've done the same thing. I leapt at Adam, knocking him down to the ground, from where I proceeded to only-partly-by-accident break his nose with a well aimed punch. I pushed myself up, breathing hard. "Whoops," I said, walking out, "did I ruin your perfect face?"

I found her on a bench - my bench – a few blocks away.

"Grace?"

She jumped. "Parker! I – the – what are you doing here?"

"You stormed out." I sat next to her. "Uh, are you all right?" That was a _really_ dumb question.

"Fine," she mumbled, avoiding my gaze.

"So, you heard what I said?"

"Yes."

"Well, let me explain…" I paused. "Grace, we're friends, right?"

She nodded uncertainly.

I stood up and started pacing. "It's just – Jesus Christ, Grace, seeing you with Adam… he doesn't deserve you! He's empty headed and arrogant and an all around pompous asshole. And you're way, way above that." I took a breath and looked at her.

Her lip trembled. "And you're telling me this… as a friend?"

Oh, my God… it was really heart wrenching, how torn she looked. I didn't know how to answer her.

I kissed her.

After that, she just started up at me with those big blue eyes. And though it was really hard to do, I met her gaze.

Oh, my God, I can't believe I did that. Why did I do that? Well, of course I wanted to, I wanted _her_, but really, that was probably the dumbest thing I could do.

So, since I already started, I might as well finish.

"Grace," I took a deep breath, "I love you."

She just stared wide eyed at me. One tear slipped down her cheek. I made to wipe it off, but she stepped back.

"Parker…" She choked back a sob. "I just can't do this."

And she turned and fled.

Leaving me feeling like such an idiot.

**Oh! Poor Parker!**


	9. Chapter 9

**(I had really no idea how much money train tickets cost today, let alone in 1899, so forgive my wild estimates.)**

After a while of sitting on the bench, I walked away. Not to my parent's house, I didn't plan on ever going back there. I never did, but that's not the point. The sun was almost setting, and I had nowhere to go, so I checked myself into the lodge house and headed up to the roof. I leaned on the edge, watching the sun set.

"You gonna jump, Sparky?"

I t was Jack. He leaned on the edge next to me.

"Thinking about it," I said moodily.

Jack eyed me carefully. "It's that Grace chick, isn't it?"

"She's not just a chick, Jack, she's…" I sighed. "She's everything to me."

"So, go after her."

I looked at him. "What?"

"Well," he said slowly, "if you really love someone, you would do whatever it takes to be with them. And you shouldn't let some stupid little thing, whatever it is, get in the way of that. I mean, if you really love her."

I stared at him. "You must be Jack's twin brother. I don't think we've met. I'm Parker."

Jack laughed. "Hey, I'm deep."

"Sparky! Hey, Parker! Wake up!"

I heard that through my subconscious, right before I was doused with ice cold water.

I leapt up. "What the hell?" I shouted at Race.

"This is important, Sparky! Grace is leaving!"

"_What_?"

"I was by your house and she came out with her bags all packed saying she's going home, and Adam came out and was trying to get her to stay, he _grabbed_ her and wouldn't let go, like he was really manhandling her, so I went over and pulled him off, and she said she couldn't marry him, not just because she didn't love him, and then she told me to tell you that she's sorry, and then she left." He took a breath.

I tried to process that. "Adam did _what?_"

"Sparky! That's not the point! She's _leaving_!"

"Right, ummm…"

I was still wearing Adam's jacket! With _his wallet_ inside! I counted the money – forty four dollars, definitely enough for a ticket, at least on a normal train.

"Thanks, Race, gotta go!"

I sprinted out of the lodge house and did not stop all the way to Grand Central Station, by which time my legs were about to collapse.

"I need… a ticket… to Albany," I said breathlessly.

The clerk frowned at me. "That train just left."

"It WHAT?"

"Please don't shout, _sir_, or I will have you removed," she threatened, obviously loathing that she had to call me 'sir'. "The express is due to leave any minute, but it's much more expensive. I don't think you will be able to afford it. She snootily looked up and down my wardrobe.

"How much is it?" I said desperately.

"Fifty two dollars."

I counted Adam's money, and then counted it again. "Look, I'm only eight short," I said. "I need to get on this train, you don't understand!"

"I understand that you aren't getting on this train," she said flatly.

I groaned. I had lost. I missed my chance. And I would never see Grace again… I turned to leave.

"Sparky! Hey, Sparky!"

I turned around. Race was running towards me. He stopped, panting, and held and envelope out to me. "Here… take…this," he wheezed.

I opened it – a crisp ten dollar bill. "Jesus, Race, you know I can't let you do this!"

"Just… go! Worry… bout it… later….train's…leaving!"

I dithered for a moment before making up my mind. "Race, you're the best. See you in a few days."

I successfully bought my ticket, telling the clerk a triumphant I-told-you-so before springing and just managing to get a seat. Race shot me a thumbs-up as I boarded.

For the next couple of hours, I sat in my seat impatiently, wanting to just get there already but also dreading it. What-if's ran through my head.

What if she's not there? What if her train gets there first? What if she doesn't feel the same way? What if…

The train screeched to a halt. I hadn't even noticed arriving at the station. I leapt off the train and scanned the crowd.

Good, she wasn't there yet. Neither was a large crowd of New York City people, so I assumed her train had yet to arrive. I picked a bench near the exit and waited.

**Cliff Hanger, hanging from a cliff, and that's why he's called Cliff Hanger!**


	10. Chapter 10

Three trains arrived in the twenty minutes I waited. I got my hopes up before realizing where they came from – Boston, Newark, Hartford. Then a fourth train came along. I stopped a gentlemen to ask him which train this was – the ten o' clock from Grand Central Station!

I looked around, but didn't have to look long, because there she was in front of me.

She stopped short when she saw me. I took a deep breath. It's now or never.

"Grace," I began, "I –"

She threw her arms around my neck and kissed me.

Then she looked me right in the eye. "You came after me."

"Of course I did."

"You came after me!" She smiled.

"Grace, I was planning on doing anything to get you back," I told her. "Mind you, now I owe Race ten bucks."

She laughed. Oh, man, that was the absolute one hundred percent best sound I had ever heard in my entire existence. I felt all warm and happy inside.

"Grace, I love you."

She kissed me again. "I love you, Parker," she murmured.

I kissed her back, and I was so incredibly happy I managed to pick her up and spin her around.

And from then on, life was pretty easy.


	11. Chapter 11

I returned to New York only to pay Racetrack back his ten dollars and say goodbye to all of the newsies. After that, Grace and I travelled the country. I got a job, earned enough money to go to night school, and now I'm a newspaper journalist in Boston. I married Grace, of course. We have three kids – Stefanie, James, and Jessica. I never saw any of my blood family again, but as far as I'm concerned, they aren't my family. Some of my old newsie crew live in Boston – Blink, Mush, Dutchy. But the rest of them are only a few hours away. And, of course, I have Grace. And that's all the family I need.

And life is pretty easy.


End file.
